


Myka the Mindreader

by gigi2690



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigi2690/pseuds/gigi2690
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first it was a novelty. Artie checked the validity of it by thinking of various numbers and obscure bits of Latin and having her repeat them; Claudia thought up different song lyrics for her to name and had gotten bohemian rhapsody stuck in her head for the past 15 minutes. Pete was on the other side of the room, trying and failing to avoid thinking about sex. And Helena-Myka tried to contain her blush as she dared a glance her way-was enjoying herself far too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Myka the Mindreader

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not copy or duplicate on other sites or mediums without my consent.

Myka rubbed her forehead and winced. It had taken 3 days to track down the man that been peddling artifacts up and down the western seaboard. While Myka and Pete were busy taking out all the man’s goons, she’d been knocked across the temple by the guy’s umbrella. They got him, and bagged all the artifacts in his possession, but she’d had a killer headache all the way back to Univille.

Pete had been mostly quiet on the trip home, mostly for his own survival, but as they pulled up to the B&B he just had to speak up, “Not looking too hot. Usually she wants to primp a little before seeing H.G after a long trip.” She punched him in the arm. 

“HEY!” He looked at her confused. She glared at him, deciding not to check her reflection in the overhead mirror and instead stepping out of the car,

“I  _do not_  primp for Helena.” Myka was halfway up the driveway before she noticed Pete had stopped, staring wide-eyed at her.

“I didn’t say that.”

 She rolled her eyes, “I heard you.”

He frowned, his eyes scanning her face as if looking for a third eye, “I felt weird all day, I thought it might have just been that burrito from the airport, but I shoulda known it was a vibe!” he walked up and placed a palm on each of her shoulders, only the unusual seriousness on his face kept her from shrugging him off, “I didn’t say that Mykes…I thought it.”

It took a second to sink in. She was about to criticize the immature prank when she heard him again, “You’re a fucking mind reader Mykes. Like Mr. X! This is so cool… unless I think about sex. Shit. Sex. I haven’t had sex in a while. Myka and Helena have sex. No. Bad. Two Girls one whip. ” His mouth didn’t move.

She groaned, spinning out of his grasp and trudging up to the B&B steps, “Shit. This is gonna suck. And we do not have a whip! It’s a crop,” the last bit muttered under her breath as she reached the door.

…

They were all gathered in warehouse office as Myka was checked out by Vanessa. At first it was a novelty. Artie checked the validity of it by thinking of various numbers and obscure bits of Latin and having her repeat them; Claudia thought up different song lyrics for her to name and had gotten bohemian rhapsody stuck in her head for the past 15 minutes. Pete was on the other side of the room, trying and failing to avoid thinking about sex. And Helena-Myka tried to contain her blush as she dared a glance her way-was enjoying herself far too much. 

 _‘You leave a mark. You cannot help it darling. Oh I see where your eyes linger, and it’s true, if this artifact allowed you to see under my attire as easily as it provides access into my thoughts you would see the bruises of your passion still linger upon my breast._ Myka’s eyes darted around the room-Pete was now reciting baseball statistics in his head- before being drawn back to where Helena lounged in a chair a few feet across from her.  

‘ _As well as the red trails still lining my inner thighs’_ she uncrossed her legs, running the pads of her fingers down the front of her thighs with faux idleness,  _it did prove to be a delicious reminder while you were away.’_ Myka’s eyes moved away to watch Vanessa taking her blood pressure. Claudia was perched on Artie’s desk, typing furiously on her laptop, her mind a buzz of jargon and artifacts as she searched for their culprit. She’d hardly even noticed Steve standing in the corner of the room. His mind was surprisingly quiet. She squinted at him as if that would aid her…well, super power as Pete put it. 

 _‘I am my thoughts. If they exist in her, Myka contains everything that is me and she becomes me.’_ He frowned and scratched his chin, _‘I cease to exist.’_ Myka couldn’t help her grin, ever the Buddhist.

She looked to Artie, who was pretending to look over Claudia’s shoulder but was instead staring at Vanessa.  _‘She always looks so lovely. I’d blame an artifact if I didn’t know better. Especially when she’s disheveled, erratic.’_ His eyes flickered to the desk as he bit his lip.

“CLAUDIA!” The redhead jumped and stared at Myka questioningly, the brunette shook her head emphatically, “Get. Off. The. Desk. Now.”

She leapt off and side-eyed at the desk as if it might light on fire, “You can hear desks now too? Was it having homicidal thoughts?” She turned back to meet Steve’s incredulous stare, “What? It’s the Warehouse,” she shrugged the shoulder of the arm not supporting her laptop, “You never know.”

Myka shook her head, before glaring at Artie and pointing a finger, “He knows.” Artie turned bright red and huffed out something in a half grumble that no one could make out. Vanessa’s fingers on her wrist twitched as they measured her pulse.

She returned her gaze to Helena, now craving the distraction of that sultry, lilting voice bouncing around within her head, ‘ _But I was speaking before of a far more enduring impression. There was a time the idea of anyone reading my thoughts would have filled me with dread or anger. Anger before I lost my Christina. For my mind was a refuge, where I weaved my stories, dreamed up my inventions. A fortress, beyond the control and oppression of my class, sex, and time. After, I would dread what one would find. For I no longer dreamed, I plotted. I fixated. I was a frequent bedfellow to a great many shadows within my mind._

Myka knows Vanessa is speaking to her now, Claudia too, but all she hears is Helena’s voice, her confession, drenched in regret and something else, something deeper and intoxicating. ‘ _But you have irrevocably altered me. In both mind and soul.’_  Helena leaned forward in her chair, watching Myka watch her with a breathtaking intensity, _’Like a spilled inkwell, you have coated every crevice, my phantoms breathe your name; when you are away I feel the distance in the hollows of my spine; my every thought is coloured by the beauty that is living in a world where you exist. Where you are mine to touch, to hold, to taste.’_  She licked her lips at that, eyes drifting down Myka’s frame with searing familiarity, _’Every place I have seen you spend is ineradicably endowed with sentiment. Because of you I have been forged anew. I no longer-’_

Myka let out a groan as something whacked her on the head. She looked up to where Pete was smiling down at her and holding an umbrella, “Frederic whose-its umbrella,” 

“Frederic William Henry Myers.” Artie spoke up, still looking a little red from earlier. 

Pete shrugged, “He apparently invented the term ‘telepathy’. Aren’t ya glad I grabbed the dude’s umbrella? Lucky it looked like it might rain today.”

 They were all smiling at her, but Myka’s mind was whirling with Helena’s beautiful words, and most of all, the desire to hear their completion, for real, out loud, not whispered into her mind from across a crowded room. She excused herself; she figured being whammied and hit on the head twice by an umbrella gave her a little leeway in manners, and sent Helena a weighted look as she left the office. She was halfway down the white tunnel exiting the warehouse before she felt a hand grasp her wrist. She was twirled around as the hands found her waist and pulled, causing their hips to bump jarringly.

“You were saying?”

“I don’t believe I was, dear.” Helena was smirking at her, but there was an incredible softness to those dark brown eyes, like she was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Like Myka was that thing. Her stomach churned pleasantly at the thought. She glared at her, a fruitless move as her lips simultaneously twisted into a lopsided grin. Soft fingers rose to trace her jaw, her cheekbones, her brow, the line of her nose. She sighed into the touch as Helena drifted yet closer, breathing the words against her lips,

“I no longer cringe at my reflection. For I am now more than the artificer, the agent responsible for the death of a friend and colleague, the mother that almost brought ruin to the world… I am a woman loved by you. Myka. Ophelia. Bering,” she pecked her lips between each part of her name, lingering to swipe her tongue along Myka’s bottom lip before finishing, “You don’t complete me darling, you rebuilt me.”

Myka shook her head, nipping lightly at Helena’s lip, “I helped you rebuild yourself,” she kept the kiss brief, getting lost in it only for a moment before pulling back, “So I think the gang will be at the warehouse for a while…where else in the B&B would like to,  _endow with sentiment_?” Helena grinned coquettishly as she led her by the hand. 


End file.
